


The Gambler

by lovethybooty



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dying Annie, F/M, Fun. - Freeform, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sad, Short One Shot, Song Lyrics, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10183721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sad little one-shot based off some of the lyrics in Fun.'s The Gambler. You'll notice (if you're familiar with the song, at least) that bits of dialogue are actually lyrics, though I've altered portions of it to work for a better read.
> 
> Big Thanks to oh_so_loverly for checking this out for me and doing a 'lil preview read of sorts.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> I really have no idea what I'm doing, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

He talks a mile a minute, breathless with each disjointed phrase as though if he distracts her- distracts himself- time will somehow stop.

"Do you remember when we met? It was winter and so, so cold- but I wasn't wearing a jacket because I was an idiot. I'm _still_ an idiot. You were wearing a coat, though. I remember. It was pink- like the color of strawberry ice cream. Your favor-”

She places a limp hand on his arm, too weak to stop him with any sort of real force. Annie nods her head as best she can, but the tubes coursing through her make it difficult and she doesn't want him to call the nurse again. She wants to respond, tries to even, but the words get caught in her throat- a thick cloud of dust and bittersweet memories.

Instead, he speaks more. He always rambles when he’s nervous, and, as much as Annie makes fun of him for it, she’s always found it endearing. She knows that this, however, is different.

“I was always so stupid, Annie, but you- you never were. You were always so smart. You always knew just what to say, what to do. What do I _do_?"

He sounds panicked, she thinks, and he looks even worse- like the frightened deer they almost hit on the highway on that night they drove straight through Arizona.

"I remember," she finally says and it sounds like even just those two words have sucked the air from her lungs. "It was my 18th birthday, and I asked you to dance. It was the bravest thing I ever did."  
  
He shakes his head and looks at her, blinking back tears that feel more like shards of glass.  
  
"You promised me the world back then," she recalls the memory fondly, but it seems a lifetime away.

"I'll still give you the world, Annie, please," he begs, gripping her hand to the point where it stings. There’s an urgency in his voice that she’s never heard before and it makes her chest hurt.  
  
She shakes her head, tries to manage a smile, "You already have."  
  
"We’re not done- we _can’t_ be done. You swore you'd be here 'til we decide that it's our time- but it's not time.”

"Finnick,” she says calmly, her tone even despite the pools of tears that well in the corners of her eyes. “You’re allowed to let me go. I’m ready, I think.”  
  
"Dammit, Annie. You've never quit in all your life- you can’t just give up now. Don’t give up on us, don't give up on _me_ ," his voice cracks, desperate and afraid and she detects a slight anger, but even she’s never been enough to quell his temper.  
  
" _Finnick_.”

“I can’t lose you…” His words trail off, but his voice is softer now- calming like the waves that rolled into shore just beyond the steps of their back patio at home. “You're the love of my life, Annie."  
  
She brings his knuckles to her lips, presses a petal soft kiss against coarse skin. It’s innocent and intimate and sends a shiver down his spine. She closes her eyes, too tired to continue.

He bows his head and weeps. It’s silent- sobs that heave in and out like someone gasping for air that isn’t there, drowning. His hand still rests in her’s. It's cold and sickly pale- like a corpse straight from the casket- yet he can't bring himself to let go. Let _her_ go.


End file.
